


sugar honey iced tea

by Anonymous



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Public Hand Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-02-23 05:14:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23739550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: He’d probably have dozed off against the bus window himself a good half an hour ago if not for…Well. If not for the place where Eddie’s left hand rested on this thigh.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 10
Kudos: 128
Collections: Anonymous





	sugar honey iced tea

**Author's Note:**

> This fic involves some hand action between characters who are ambiguously 17 or 18 years of age. If that makes you uncomfortable then hit that back button right now and spare yourself the discomfort. It also starts in a place that could be considered somnophilia-adjacent (with Eddie's hand on Richie's thigh and Richie's consciousness ambiguous from Eddie's position). That doesn't last long but if it's something that would bother you, please do tread lightly. 
> 
> Title is taken from one of the sweetest (and cheesiest) lines in Tyler, the Creator's See You Again because it seemed right at the time.

It hadn’t taken long for his classmates to start dropping off into sleep on the ride home from third period astronomy’s mid-year field trip. Between the four-hour drive to the planetarium and the honestly criminal number of sketches of the constellations of the northern hemisphere that Mr. Hathaway had required of them, Richie wasn’t at his perkiest himself. He’d probably have dozed off against the bus window himself a good half an hour ago if not for…

Well. If not for the place where Eddie’s left hand rested on this thigh. Richie was afraid to so much as breathe in too deeply, fearful that Eddie would realize where his hand was and snatch it away. Richie knew that it was probably creepy that he knew exactly the cadence Eddie’s breathing patterns fell into in sleep, but a good twelve years spent glued one another’s sides were as good an excuse as any for that. Not that anyone had thought to ask, but his excuse was there and ready to go if it ever came to that. 

He had a lot of Eddie-specific contingency plans. What to do if someone pointed out that he touched Eddie too much, or if they accused him of staring. Like many of his plans, they mostly involved references to the accuser’s mother, his dick, and whatever inspired him in the moment; his improv skills were fucking stunning if he did say so himself. 

HIs increased awareness of Eddie’s presence since puberty had begun its hostile takeover of his body at twelve meant that there was hardly anything about Eddie that he hadn’t memorized over the past five years. If he opened his eyes now, he wondered if there would be enough light shining through the windows to see those fucking freckles of his. Fuck Cassiopoeia, Orion and both of those bears—he was much more interested in mapping those constellations. 

So, yeah. He knew that Eddie was awake. What he was less sure of was whether Eddie knew that he was still awake, too. Stan and Mary-Beth, Stan’s very pretty but equally serious girlfriend, had been asleep across the aisle last time Richie had dared crack an eye open. Their position at the back of the bus meant that Stan and company’s eyes were the only ones he logically had to be too concerned with in the dark, but he still felt like he would jump out of his skin if anyone nearby dared to even shift in their seat. 

He should probably have said something by now. His constant, near-irrepressible impulse to break tension with a joke could only really be overwhelmed by the mix of arousal and sheer icy terror that was coursing through his body. Because Eddie’s hand was _still on his leg_. 

God, could Eddie tell? Did he know? Was he doing it on purpose or was he just comfortable enough with him to not feel self-conscious about touching Richie like this? It wasn’t like he was touching Richie’s dick. 

Not quite. 

Not quite, but it was a close enough thing that another couple of inches would change that real quick. He imagined having to explain to his best friend why he was so fucking hard, if Eddie could even see him clearly enough to tell. He refused to open his eyes even a little to find out. 

Okay, maybe it was better to give Eddie some plausible deniablity. Not that he needed it. Not that he realized what he was doing to Richie _at all_. If he had realized he definitely wouldn’t casually rest his hand on his old pal Rich Tozier’s thigh for a moment longer. But just in case...the plausible deniability. 

No court in the country could convict him! 

“Hmmm…”, Richie put on his best approximation of a sleepy murmur and shifted to angle his body toward Eddie’s just a fraction more closely. Coincidentally, the movement caused Eddie’s hand to slip a bare inch closer to where he wanted it to be. His whole body burned with the desire to be touched, not on his thigh but where he really wanted it.

“Rich?” Eddie’s voice whispered into the silence, barely audible. 

If anyone ever asked Richie to explain the impulse that struck him at that moment he wouldn’t be able to put it into words, but he knew exactly what he was doing and why he was doing it. 

Richie said nothing, but pushed his leg up into Eddie’s hand in a way that did not indicate sleep. There, that was about as bold as he was gonna get. If they were on the same page then Eddie would know that he had permission to do whatever he liked, and they wouldn’t even have to talk about it later if he didn’t want that. He itched to make a crack about Schrodinger’s Awkward First Public Sexual Experience that had just occurred to him, but for once he had a good enough incentive to hold his tongue.

Because Eddie, in a move that Richie had dreamed of for years and never dared to expect, slid his hand down to rest on his crotch. Richie couldn’t control the harsh huff of breath that made its way out of his mouth before he had the wisdom to clamp both of his lips between his teeth. His hips jumped into Eddie’s hand, and there was no way Eddie could think he was asleep now.

He’d been hard almost from the moment Eddie’s hand had landed on his thigh, but he was leaking now. It was embarrassing that he’d gotten to this point before Eddie’s hand had even touched him, but as his hand curled around the outline of Richie’s dick through his pants all thought of embarrassment slipped from his mind. 

No one had ever touched him like this before. For all of their sophomore year Richie had told anyone who’d listen lurid tales of a freshman at the community college who’d decided she liked a younger man and had routinely blown him in all sorts of scandalously semi-public locations around Derry, but his friends knew better than anyone else that he was all talk. It wasn’t like they were gonna make him take a lie detector test or anything, so it didn’t really matter if they believed him or not. 

The mysterious (and imaginary) Becky didn’t have anything on Eddie Kaspbrak’s small hand, tentatively stroking up Richie’s shaft. The fabric of his shorts dampened the sensation, but somehow it still felt so much more than Richie’s own hand ever had on his bare skin. 

“Just push it away if you don’t like it, Richie,” Eddie breathed, but they both knew full well that Richie was desperate for it. Eddie’s bravery in acknowledging what was happening when Richie just _couldn’t_ made him feel dizzy with love for him, in the way that Eddie’s bravery always did. _Oh yeah, it makes me so fucking hot when you acknowledge all this dick-touching_ , Richie thought half-hysterically. It wouldn’t be long before wetness reached Eddie’s hand on the outside of his shorts. Emboldened by Richie’s hips pushing up into his hand ever so slightly, the only way that he could bring himself to express how he felt about the situation, Eddie started to speed up his strokes. 

“ _Ahh_ ,” Richie hissed before he was able to stop himself, thrusting up into Eddie’s hand. His teeth clicked shut in horror, afraid both that someone had heard and that Eddie would stop.

Eddie sighed heavily through his nose in the cute way he frequently did when Richie was being annoying. 

“Seriously, Rich?” he muttered, but thankfully his hand kept up its motion. His right hand came up to cover Richie’s mouth, and Richie whimpered into his palm.

Now that was a fantasy that Richie never planned to share with anyone. Over the years he’d dreamed up all sorts of scenarios to get Eddie’s hands on him. Wrestling matches, Twister accidents, and slapping games featured frequently but Eddie losing his temper and physically trying to shut Richie up had always seemed the most realistic, so it was a theme he revisited a lot at night. 

Eddie suddenly stopped stroking. Richie thought he might cry, he was so embarrassingly close to coming from just a few strokes over his pants that he could feel it in his teeth.

Rather than retreating, Eddie’s hand instead went for his zipper. He wiggled his fingers under the waistband of Richie’s underpants and pulled him out into the open air, which suddenly felt shockingly cold on his bare skin despite the unseasonable October heat and shitty school bus ventilation. _My dick is fully out_ , he thought. _Anyone could just look over here and see my whole unit_. He was suddenly very thankful for Eddie’s hand over his mouth which deadened a laugh that would have definitely gotten them caught otherwise.

Richie’s eyes cracked open for the first time in what felt like hours, and he was shocked to find that he couldn’t see much of anything at all. The night sky was blotted out by clouds and they seemed to be passing through a long stretch of forest in Nowheresville, Maine. 

The little light available was enough that Richie’s eyes almost immediately found Eddie’s, which were wide open and staring into Richie’s face in a way that made his breath stutter against Eddie’s palm. The idea that Eddie had been watching, had wanted to see Richie like this, warmed him in a way that was only half-related to arousal. Suddenly feeling much braver, Richie ran his tongue against the stretch of palm against his mouth. Unsurprisingly it tasted more like hand sanitizer than salt.

Eddie breathed in sharply through his nose. 

“Fuck, _Rich_.” 

Richie dropped his own hand, which had been frozen beside him on the seat for ages, into Eddie’s lap. Feeling that Eddie was just as hard as him made him feel kind of crazy, overwhelmed with the desire to make him feel good too. Eddie’s hand dropped from Richie’s mouth and batted his hand out of his lap. 

“Not now, don’t wanna make a mess.” 

_Sexy little hypocrite_ , Richie thought deliriously, but before he could find his voice and share that thought with Eddie his hand was right back over his mouth again. 

Eddie’s hand went back to stroking his erection, which had barely flagged during the pause in action. His grip was tight in a way that was nearly painful, but Richie found that he liked it. He wondered if this was how Eddie touched himself. Did he like it rough like this, or was this a a Richie-only approach? Either way, he flagged it for future spank bank use. Richie’s hips were pushing up off the seat into Eddie’s hand on their own now and he was so close that he could taste it. Eddie’s hand instinctively tightened over his mouth as Richie’s thrusts became shorter and more erratic. He came into Eddie’s palm with a cry that was completely muffled by Eddie’s damp palm, and immediately listed sideways onto Eddie’s shoulder. Frowning at the angle it pushed the hand covering Richie’s mouth into, Eddie let it drop away into his lap. Richie felt suddenly exhausted and pleasantly tingly. He could fall asleep against Eddie’s bony shoulder in less than thirty seconds, probably. 

Eddie lifted his shoulder so that it bumped repeatedly into Richie’s cheek.

“Give me a second, I need to find my wet wipes.” It suddenly occurred to Richie that Eddie still had a handful of his cum. He snickered as he took a moment to zip himself back into his pants. Eddie paused long enough in his rummaging through his backpack to knock his knee against Richie’s, oddly good-natured for a frequently very angry little dude who was definitely going to be suffering from an awful case of blue balls soon. And he’d only have himself to blame, since he’d rejected Richie’s helping hand. Offering one more time couldn’t hurt.

“Sure you don’t want me to give you a hand too, Eds?” He wiggled his fingers in front of Eddie’s face suggestively. 

“That’s _gross_ , we are on a _bus_. What if you gets it on my pants and my mom sees when she does the laundry? She’d never let me out of the house again.”

Eddie, ever the unofficial little boy scout, packed away his dirty wet wipes into the little plastic bag that had held his carrot sticks from lunch time. 

“Oh, Eds. You sexy, sexy little hypocrite.” Richie slouched right back onto Eddie’s shoulder as soon as he had packed away the evidence. Eddie pinched his side in retaliation, but then he pulled the sweatshirt that he had kept tied around his waist for the entire day over the place where their legs were touching and took Richie’s hand in his own underneath.

Richie fell asleep feeling happier than he could ever remember feeling in his entire life.

The bus rolled into the school parking lot at around midnight. The overhead lights flicked on and abruptly jerked Richie out of sleep. He was content to sit there in a sleepy fog for a moment and think only about how Eddie somehow wanted him back.

Richie thought he probably wanted him back. It wasn’t as if they’d talked about it, but he didn’t think Eddie was the type to go around casually giving all of his friends handjobs in semi-public settings.

As he heard other people beginning to move around and collect their things and Stan’s voice speaking quietly to Mary-Beth Richie realized that he was still holding Eddie’s hand under the sweatshirt.

He pulled it away as gently as possible, but it was still enough to wake Eddie. Eddie flushed bright red as he met Richie’s eyes in the brightness of the overhead lights and busied himself gathering his things. He didn’t say a word to Richie as they filed into the aisle and off of the bus. Huh. Apparently it was a lot easier to be brave in the dark, not that Richie had shown any himself during the whole encounter.

Stan was quick to say his goodbyes so that he could walk home with Mary-Beth. Richie couldn’t blame him, considering the desperation he felt to get Eddie alone.

“Look at that, Stan’s heading off to become a man at last. And only a full four years after his bar mitzvah!” 

This was said loudly enough to be audible, and as Mary-Beth turned her head to scowl at Richie (shockingly, she was not a fan of his) Stan gave him a silent middle finger without turning around or slowing at all. 

“Are you gonna walk with me or keep fucking with Stan all night?” Eddie looked so small with his lips pressed tight and his arms crossed over his chest, shoulders uncharacteristically hunched. He’d never gotten that last big growth spurt he’d been claiming would happen since he was twelve, but he’d tell anyone who would listen that men could continue growing into their twenties.

Richie thought he was already the perfect size. He made a very nice armrest, for one. 

He told him as much as he stuck an elbow up onto one of Eddie’s shoulders. Eddie scowled, but the air around them was suddenly infinitely less tense. Why was Eddie so nervous, anyway? It was obvious that Richie was a sure thing. He tried to ignore the little part of himself that wondered if maybe that was the problem.

“Let’s get going, Eds. I was worried you’d turn back into a pumpkin at midnight, but I guess they gave you a pass since you’re already as cute as one.”

“If you’re saying that I’m Cinderella then I wouldn’t turn into a pumpkin, I’d just lose my party clothes. The carriage turns back into a pumpkin, idiot.”

“Didn’t take you for a Disney princess fan, Eddo-man.” Eddie didn’t rise to his bait at all, which was just sick and unnatural. 

They walked in silence for a block or so, until the school and all of their classmates are out of sight. 

“Hey…Eds?”

“Hmm?”

“How did you, uh. How did you know that I….you know.” Richie focused on his scuffed tennis shoes. They’d been a thrift store find, shocking blue but already on their last leg. He could only think that he’d somehow let something slip, that he’d been too obvious. Had anyone else noticed? God, he hoped not. 

“Oh. Actually, I….talked to Stan. Last weekend, when I got to his house before you and everyone else.” Richie’s eyes widened in alarm, and Eddie waved his hand in front of his face to indicate that Richie was somehow wrong to be worried about this. “Don’t look at me like that, I told him about how I felt. He just told me that he thought I, um. Probably wasn’t the only one.” 

“If I knew he had such a thing for gossip I would’ve passed on an invite to my grandma’s bridge club so he could get his fill with all the other little old ladies.”

“Asshole. You weren’t complaining earlier.” Eddie was grinning in that irrepressible way that he usually worked hard to bite the corners off of. Not so much when they were alone. 

“You’re right. If my parents have taught me anything it’s that I should be writing him a thank you note at a time like this.” Richie mimed flourishing a quill pen. “To the esteemed Staniel Uris. I am writing to express to you my deepest gratitude for sticking your nose into my romantic and sexual life in such a way that allowed me to experience the delight of covert hand action aboard the community horseless motorcoach.” 

He peeked sidewise over at Eddie, who’d pressed a hand to try to stifle his giggles in the quiet of the night. 

“I doubt your parents told you to write thank you cards for the gift of mobile hand jobs. And even if they had, I definitely deserve a card more than Stan. I did all the work.” He held up his wrist and rotated his hand pointedly. “I’m gonna have to ice my wrist when I get home, there’s no way that angle was good for my tendons.”

“So Stan told you all about my delicate little feelings and your plan to get your hooks into all of this was public indecency? Well, I never.”

“Seriously? Don’t do one more voice right now or I’ll have to kill you. Your limit for this conversation is two and you’ve used them up.” Despite his words, Eddie reached out and grabbed his hand. After a quick glance around to make sure they were really alone, Richie adjusted his grip to slot his fingers in between Eddie’s. 

“I always thought handies on the bus were more horny marching band nerd territory but if it’s something you wanna do again I’m game.” He squeezed Eddie’s hand tight. “Next time you gotta let me do you though. You’re gonna have blue balls from hell.”

“Don’t worry about that, I’m not planning to do all the work myself.” His ears were bright red under the streetlights. Richie wanted to touch them. He realized that he could now, so he did. The shell of Eddie’s ear was warm to the touch.

“Cute,” he said, immediately grabbing Eddie’s hand into his own again. “Hey, how’d I end up with your hand on my dick before I ever even got to kiss you? Seems kinda out of order to me.”

“I dunno.” he smiled down at their hands, so soft that Richie felt like his heart was trying to break out of his chest at the sight of it. “You could change that whenever you wanted.”

They’d nearly reached Eddie’s house. If he wanted to do this he’d have to man up really fucking soon. And he definitely wanted to do it. He’d been thinking up ways he might be able to get away with it since around eleven when thought of kissing Eddie had first entered his mind. Kissing practice and truth or dare had seemed like his best chance up until now.

“You think your mom’s waiting up for you?”

“No way, her new meds are fucking horse tranquilizers. A bomb could go off next door and she would sleep right through it.” Richie stored this knowledge away for future use, already thinking about how nice it would be to sneak into Eddie’s room at night and be allowed to kiss and touch him as much as Eddie would permit.

“Hmm, good. I don’t wanna make her jealous.” As Eddie opened his mouth, doubtlessly to yell at him, Richie ducked down and quickly kissed him. Since Eddie’s mouth was open it wasn’t the best first kiss and only their bottom lips touched while Richie’s top lip awkwardly hung out in the space between Eddie’s, but Richie had wanted it for so long that he could’ve busted his lip open on Eddie’s teeth and still gone home feeling like he was floating on a little cartoon cloud. It was enough that he’d ever had the chance to touch his lips to Eddie’s at all. 

“You suck at this. What happened to all that experience with _community college Becky?_ ” Eddie said her name like it was filthy, like he didn’t know full well that there’d never been any Becky. Not bothering to wait for a reply, Eddie pulled Richie back down with a hand to the back of his neck and kissed him properly. He didn’t try to slip Richie any tongue, but Richie thought maybe that was something you built up to. Unlike casual handjobs. 

“Wow.” Richie looked into Eddie’s eyes, feeling soft and brave and unbearably fond. He loved this boy in ways he still wasn’t ready to voice. It felt so big inside his chest that he was suddenly sure that it would have to last forever. He cupped Eddie’s cheek in his hand and whispered, “Maybe I really should be writing Stan a thank you note.”

Eddie smacked him in the chest lightly with an open palm. 

“Go home, dickhead. We can talk about this tomorrow.” Eddie turned on his heel and headed toward his house. Richie stood there and watched him disappear inside, waited until he saw Eddie’s bedroom light flick on upstairs before turning and heading toward his own house.

Tomorrow they’d talk about it. For the first time in all the years he’d imagined having this conversation with Eddie, he was sure he would like what he was going to hear.


End file.
